


i can see your ribs when you sing

by TheGodWith5Yen



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Brotherly Affection, F/M, Falling In Love, Feelings, First Kiss, Fluff, Friendship/Love, Human Disaster Anakin Skywalker, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, like lowkey but i mean its true
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:00:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23178859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGodWith5Yen/pseuds/TheGodWith5Yen
Summary: The moment he saw Padmé Amidala, the Maiden herself, Anakin felt as his heart raced inside his chest and his mind became nothing but a blank slate as though he was just born and he had nothing, nothing. And, in a way, he knew he had nothing. Nothing to give this beautiful goddess, nothing to impress her with, nothing to express how her presence made him feel as though everything in his life had to lead up to this, this moment in time, this meeting, this immense love that began to form as he watched her lips pull up into a careful smile and her hands fold in front of herself.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Padmé Amidala/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 9
Kudos: 54





	i can see your ribs when you sing

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Star Wars fic after getting really obsessed since December lol I just wanted to write something nice and soft, so I hope everyone enjoys :3
> 
> title comes from the song "Human Heart" by Thao & the Get Down Stay Down

Anakin Skywalker was familiar with the gods. Despite being nothing more than a mortal, he had found himself in the presence of a god, kind and soft spoken, when he was nothing but a youngling, sitting among the burned remnants of what had once been his home; of what had once been a village, bustling and full of people who suffered more than Anakin could fathom. The god had knelt down so his eyes were level with Anakin’s and had placed an endlessly warm hand onto his tear-stained cheeks and said in that soft voice that made Anakin feel  _ warm _ to his bones, “Let’s get you away from here youngling.”

The god had carried Anakin within his arms like he was nothing- and, he was. Nothing. He was a slave boy who had been fed scraps all his life, nothing but bones and the kindling of a strong soul that had been breathed to life by his mother's whispered bedtime stories. This god raised him, treated him as though they were brothers, and Anakin loved his with his whole soul, loved him and cherished every moment they shared together. 

So, yes, Anakin was familiar with the gods. With the lands they traversed, with the subtle, yet glaring differences that made them gods. Though, in all honesty, Anakin also had very good Sight, unlike most mortals, who wouldn’t be able to see a god even if they were one step in front of them shouting into their face. Ordinary people didn’t sense gods unless they were on their deathbed or the god was particularly playful and opened their Sight to them. 

Anakin was familiar with gods, with their names and what they specialized in. Obi-Wan was called the great Negotiator, a kind god who knew nearly all there could be known in all the lands and a silver tongue that swindlers and rogues prayed to in time of need. In their travels together, Anakin had heard several shady men with their miscreant ragtag groups whisper under their breath as they flirted with women who held themselves with chins held high and the marks of the Maiden on their cheeks or even as they found themselves face-to-face with the merchant they just snatched a piece from, “Obi-Wan Kenobi, may your silver tongue grace mine.” Some days, Obi-Wan would stand back with Anakin, the two laughing as they watched the men scramble in their lies and wordplay, and others Obi-Wan would step forward and press his lips to theirs, temporarily granting them his skill.

He had once asked his brother, “How do you choose?”

And his answer was simple- “I choose those who truly need my help. Who ask for my silver tongue for all the right reasons.”

There was also Fay, the goddess of the light, whose touch could bring anyone to tears of happiness as they recalled their happiest moments. When Anakin had first met Fay, he was fourteen and had spent five years in Obi-Wan’s care. The goddess had cupped his cheeks in her hands and tilted his head up, tears gathering in his eyes as he suddenly remembered how his mother would press kisses to his eyelids and sing lullabies in his ear about the gods and how Obi-Wan would hold him close to his chest while he read books as Anakin slept and how his brother had watched in a fit of laughter the first time Anakin strayed far from his side to flirt with a girl. It was all so fragile and precious and something a slave as himself would have never known. Yet, even when he had lived as a slave, Fay’s light had touched him with his mother's love. 

There were gods like Chewbacca, large and furred like a wild dog, a god whose love was deep and true. He was a god of battles and to the wounded, a god who made the hurt of wars and the weight of loss less heavy as he sang his wailing songs along the hillsides. Anakin had met him once in his eighteenth year, holding a young boy who couldn’t be more than nine in his arms as he sang a melody that filled Anakin’s bones with resilience. The boy had been asleep, the god smoothing at his hair with the same love Obi-Wan had shown when Anakin had been the boy's age. Anakin had shared a look with his brother and kissed his temple with a grin, a sudden show of affection he had been less privy to give the older he got. 

There was the little green creature, Yoda, the embodiment of wisdom and intelligence. Anakin had been immeasurably fond of Yoda when he had first met the god, enjoying the puzzling way he spoke and how he would hit Obi-Wan in his ankles with the little gimmer stick he hobbled around with. It wasn’t as enjoyable when the god turned that stick to Anakin’s own ankles when he grew older and was, in the old creature's words, “worrisome as Obi-Wan, you are.” Still, he would listen to Anakin’s troubles and offer his infinite wisdom and little candies he would steal from altars that were meant to be offerings. The one time Anakin questioned the old god about it, Yoda had laughed and his large ears would twitch as he said, “offerings, they are. Take them, I may. Wisdom not to leave food for old gods, they will receive.” Which was endlessly funny, no matter how the old god tried to play it off. 

And then-

Then there was- 

See, Anakin  _ knew  _ of the gods, he did, he really truly did, but he had not been prepared to meet the Maiden, the goddess with a strength in her heart and her words, a goddess that dressed ornately and full of meaning, the goddess of beauty, strength of mind, and strategy, a symbol to all women of the preciousness of oneself, the Maiden who collected young women who followed her code and sought her out in their times of distress and kept them close so that they were as wise and beautiful and strong as herself. Padmé Amidala. 

The moment he saw Padmé Amidala, the Maiden herself, Anakin felt as his heart raced inside his chest and his mind became nothing but a blank slate as though he was just born and he had nothing,  _ nothing _ . And, in a way, he knew he had nothing. Nothing to give this beautiful goddess, nothing to impress her with, nothing to express how her presence made him feel as though everything in his life had to lead up to  _ this, _ this moment in time, this meeting, this immense love that began to form as he watched her lips pull up into a careful smile and her hands fold in front of herself. Oh where was Obi-Wan’s silver tongue when you needed it?

“You must be Ani,” Padmé said in a sweet, clear voice that rang in Anakin’s ears, “Obi-Wan’s brother. I’ve heard so much about you, though most of them were about you being adorable and small. My, time must have moved quickly without my realizing.”

It was common enough for gods to lose time, the only reason Obi-Wan didn’t seem to was because he had Anakin. He often expressed that he worried about becoming too involved in his own thoughts that years would pass and suddenly Anakin was old and withered. The Maiden may have heard about Anakin when he was a young boy, stories from Fay who spoke still as though Anakin was a small boy with missing teeth, or Chewbaca who spoke as though any mortal shorter than him (which was, really, all mortals) was a child who needed to be held close and under his care.

Still, what came out of his mouth was, “You’re beautiful.”

Anakin blanched and stumbled over himself at his own words, idiotic and definitely a curse from his brother, damn him, but Padmé’s smile shifted into a grin that showed her pearly white teeth and laughter coursed through the air, a sound that flowed into Anakin’s soul. He wanted to hear her laugh again, he wanted to make her laugh again. 

“Thank you. How kind of you to say.” Padmé placed a hand onto his arm, the sleeve of her long red robe grazed the back of his hand. He watched her face, unpainted unlike many of her depictions, though the standard red circles on her cheeks were in place. The marks of the Maiden. Anakin dropped his gaze away from her face, instead watching the way her shoes glittered in the late sun. “Come, tell me of your travels.”

So, Anakin followed along the Maiden, towards the edge of a lake, speaking to her about his travels with Obi-Wan and the small adventures he was having recently on his own, listening to her very own stories of meeting her maidens and even her own adventures into battle. “You must’ve stunned them all to submission,” Anakin chuckled as he tapped a jewel that rested on her shoulder, his eyes roaming about her elegant smile and the alluring way her deep brown eyes watched Anakin. He smiled at her. 

“Yes, well, many do not think a goddess of beauty has much worth in a fight, but I find that beauty has its place everywhere. In a song, in a dance, in the movement between foes trying to find the upper hand, in a well placed strike in the heart. Beauty and strategy walk hand in hand, and while many may forget it, they are both a specialization of mine.” Her hand moved from her side and pressed over his heart, and she had to feel it, had to feel how his heart skipped a beat and pushed much too fast, much too hard, but her smile was soft and beautiful and- 

Slowly, her hand moved, up, up, her fingertips grazing the stubble that grew on his chin and cheeks, landing on his lips, parting them slightly. Breathing became a struggle as he felt her fingers on his lips, a subtle touch, a beginning, a thought, a want. Anakin opened his mouth slightly- maybe to speak, maybe to lick at her fingers as their eyes were locked just to see the expression she would make- but instead, after a moment of thinking, he lowered his chin and pressed a kiss to her fingers, to the palm of her hand, to her wrist.

Perhaps it would have felt all too fast for some, but Anakin knew the moment he raised his eyes to meet hers that she felt that this was right, meant, had always been. Their lives had crossed for this very reason, for them to hold each other and  _ be _ . Her bottom lip trembled as Anakin pressed another slow, soft kiss to her wrist. 

“Is this allowed?” Anakin whispered against her wrist, enjoying the way her pale skin grew into gooseflesh from the sound of his voice and the weight of his breath. “You’re a maiden. The Maiden.” 

Her wide eyes blinked down at him and slowly, slowly, her head shook back and forth. “How can something that feels so right not be allowed? I feel like- you’re a mortal, yet your soul, it wants to break out and shine as a gods, to stand by my side. And that’s all I want. I want it. I want you.” Padmé shifted her hand towards his chin and titled his face up, towards her own. Their foreheads pressed together, their warm breath mixed, their noses bumped, and-

The kiss was long and unlike any other Anakin had had before. It spoke volumes- of a future that would change so much of the world they knew, that the love and devotion Anakin felt for Padmé was as equal in her bones as his. This wasn’t right, this couldn’t be, Anakin was mortal, he was a slave boy, but he was raised by the side of a god, and he knew that, if Obi-Wan wished to, he could be granted to gift of a god, to become one, to set right this feeling deep inside his bones, because by all the gods was it right, this was right, kissing Padmé was right, it was what his whole life had truly lead up to, even if it made no sense, even if she was the Maiden, this was right. 

It was right.

Anakin Skywalker was familiar with gods, yes. But he did not know how to move forward after kissing one, falling in love with one. Anakin pulled away from Padmé, their nose bumping, their foreheads once again pressed together, his thumbs moving back and forth along her cheeks. He had wiped away at the marks of the Maiden. 

“You’re a maiden,” he whispered against her lips. 

“A maiden does not need to be celibate. As long as she stands true to her ideals, my maidens are allowed to find love in their life. Why can’t I?” Her voice cracked. It cracked, right as she asked, and it did again as she repeated, “Why can’t I, Anakin?”

“You’re a goddess.” Why was he arguing? It was half-hearted, stupid, but he was arguing. 

“Every god knows Obi-Wan loves you too much to let you grow old. We’ll live together Ani.” It was words Anakin had never actually heard outside of subtle implications and his own thoughts on the matter- Obi-wan loved him too much to let him die. To grow too old to look like his younger brother. 

Warm, fat tears slid from his eyes, down his cheek, his head nodding against hers. 

No, Anakin had not been prepared for meeting the Maiden, for the emotions she stirred up in his heart, for the happiness, the want, the love, the good, the ache. They kissed, again and again and again, and they spoke, and they whispered, and they laughed, and they kissed farewell when Padmé had to leave, a promise in their touch. When they met again, it would be for more. For longer. 

It was days after he and Padmé had promised themselves to one another that Anakin found his brother, leaning against a hut while watching a man and a young boy stroll past, stroking at his beard in thought before moving to follow. “About to grace your tongue on that man Obi-Wan?” He laughed as he fell in step with his brother.

“He may need it. He’s going to propose to a high status family's daughter with nothing but the clothes on his back and a few gold pieces.” Obi-Wan shook his head and sighed. 

Anakin raised an eyebrow, “Really Obi-Wan, don’t you usually let these men crash and burn?” Those were some of his fondest memories, watching as men stumbled over their tongues as they tried to talk their way into something. Sometimes Obi-Wan would even give Anakin pointers on what those men had done wrong, and how to fix their words, for when Anakin ever needed the words for himself. 

“Perhaps I’m growing soft in my old age. Though, this proposal is out of love, and I would like to see it come through.” There was that mischievous look in his eyes, the one that said  _ I know exactly what you’ve done my young brother _ , and suddenly Anakin remembered how he had tried to pray to Obi-Wan as he stumbled over his words to Padmé, and he wondered just how  _ much _ his brother truly knew, or what he simply thought he knew. So, Anakin rolled his eyes and followed along. 

Afterwards, when they had snatched a piece of cake after hours of watching the subsequent proposal-turned-celebration-feast, Obi-Wan turned to Anakin with a grin. “You met the Maiden.”

“I did.” Anakin nodded his head. He stuffed a rather large piece of cake into his mouth. There was red frosting on the cake. It reminded him of how he had brushed away the paint of the red marks of the Maiden on Padmé’s cheeks after they shared their first kiss. By the gods. “Obi-Wan, I- I may have done something- bad.”

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. There was frosting in his beard, but now didn’t seem the time to point it out. “Anakin whatever you did, I doubt-”

“I kissed the Maiden.”

“Oh, well, disregard my previous statement.” Obi-Wan sighed, deep and heavy, and pinched his nose. “Anakin, my young, idiotic brother, what possesed you to  _ kiss _ the  _ Maiden _ of all people. I know she can be rather charming, for a young goddess, but of all things!” 

“She started it! She put her hand on my chest and on my lips and I’m a young man Obi-Wan! There’s only so much for me to resist before I find myself kissing her!” Anakin stuffed the rest of his cake in his mouth, hoping its sweetness would ease the tension growing in between his shoulder blades, but he knew his immense anger enough to know it would only grow before it dissipated again. 

“Wait, the Maiden did  _ what _ ? Padmé Amidala? Are you sure it was not one of her maidens? They tend to look like her and dress up their faces, it can be rather hard to tell the difference at times when the Maiden wishes to hide.” The thought had never passed Anakin’s mind, but- no. No, she had been a goddess, the goddess, the Maiden, Padmé Amidala. He had kissed her, they had promised themselves to each other. Before Anakin could speak, a look must have passed his face because his brother gave a resigned sigh. “Only you Anakin Skywalker, only you can find a way to cause the Maiden to kiss a man. At least it was only- No. No.  _ Anakin _ .”

“We didn’t have sex! We didn’t!” Anakin hurried to say. By the gods, he would love to, to kiss the skin of her thighs, to lick between her sweet lips until she shuddered in pleasure, gods would she be beautiful to be with. “We just- we made a promise. To each other. I- Obi-Wan, I want to be by her side. I want to be her husband. And- fuck I know this is fast and makes no sense, but I love her, I love her. It’s as though I was meant to be with her.” 

And Obi-Wan simply sighed, “You were always meant to be a god, weren’t you my young, reckless brother? You always felt your emotions so greatly.” 

What Anakin knew of gods, it made all the sense in the world, that once Obi-Wan whispered the words of immortality into a pot of tea and made Anakin drink it all (really, must Obi-Wan try to get Anakin to like tea like this?), that Anakin became the god without fear, a warrior, a spirit of passion and great unending love. It was odd, becoming used to godhood, but it felt as though he was finally coming home for the first time since his village- his mother- had been burned to a crisp. 

Anakin Skywalker was a god. But, that was overshadowed quickly because-

Anakin Skywalker was the husband of Padmé Amidala. 

He loved her. He loved her with his whole soul, and he heard prayers of lovers whispering in his ears at all times of the day, granting them what he could, because he knew what a powerful love felt like, as there could be no reason for him to let them hurt and festered. Anakin loved so deeply, he loved Padmé so deeply. He loved laying in bushes with her and braiding flowers into her hair and kissing her cheeks and hearing her sing and watching as she stood proud with her chin held high, seeming much taller than she was, as strong as any warrior could wish to be as she protected women. He loved her. He loved her. 

**Author's Note:**

> Leave a kudos, a comment, or check out my other fics! Thanks for reading, I hope you guys enjoyed <3


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